Like Hurling Snowflakes at a Glacier
by Aikori Ichijouji
Summary: A strange collection of Miraculous one-shots for your reading pleasure. NEW: Clothes Encounters - Marinette has the talent to create some truly miraculous things and great talent can sometimes be accompanied by great trouble. But this might just be exactly the sort of trouble she was looking for. Miraculess AU.
1. You Know How to Whistle, Don't You?

_"You know you don't have to act with me. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you? You just put your lips together and... blow." A canon compliant LadyNoir-centric fic._

* * *

The abundant sun had warmed the clay roofing tiles just enough that morning to remove the night's chill, making it quite comfortable to sit on instead of the usual cases of extreme hot or cold at any other time of the day. There was even a slight breeze, brushing her bangs this way and that. It was almost a perfect day, were it not for the fact that she'd just finished freeing yet another citizen from the manipulating grasp of an evil butterfly.

They both had another few minutes before their transformations would revert, thus her partner lay stretched out on the roof beside her, catching his breath. A bird that was perched on a nearby chimney broke into song with a series of shrill tweets. She smiled at the sound of its joyful noises. Leaning back on her hands in the morning sun, she closed her eyes and basked in its warmth, enjoying the tiny, solo performer as it chirped away.

The solo soon became a duet.

Her eyes flew open, looking to one side to see her partner's lips pursed and pushing out notes that either matched or complemented those of the bird. Both of his hands were tucked behind his head and his eyes remained closed while he whistled along with his avian compatriot as if he'd known the song his entire life. It was remarkable how well he could replicate the sound, to the point that even the occasional warbles and trills weren't beyond his skill.

Of course, should couldn't tell him that. Well, she could and run the risk of being on the receiving end of sideways grins and waggled eyebrows—she always marveled at how he managed such exaggerated eyebrow movements from behind a _mask _. So, she chose the strategy of merciless teasing.

"Is that how you trick birds into letting you eat them, kitty? You pretend to be one of their kind?"

One green eye peeked open to look at her and he pushed both of his arms up above his head in a languid stretch.

"Considering my violent allergic reaction to Ramier's pigeons, that would be an unwise decision on my part."

"Oh… right."

In the time it took her to dwell on her embarrassment, he'd sprung to his feet and offered his hand to her. She took it without complaint, not wanting to add to her blunder any further.

"It's alright, my lady, I appreciate the backhanded compliment," a lazy grin spread across his face. "That's really the only one call I can replicate well."

"You must have spent forever practicing it to get that close."

She stood beside him then with her arms folded, expecting him to preen, but he just shrugged.

"I used to have a lot of spare time."

"Yea, so did I," she laughed. "I never would've considered mastering bird calls as a potential activity, however."

"Just because you didn't think of it first doesn't mean it has no merit," he wouldn't back down from her teasing, not that she was expecting him to. "Besides, you could always start now."

She faltered, her hands falling to her side.

"I… really couldn't."

"Oh, please, I'm sure you'd be better than me in a few weeks," he insisted.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you."

Her voice was tiny, and not just because she'd started inching away from him at that point, her feet carrying her one tiny sidestep at a time. Her face was flushed and she was grateful for the fact that only the space between her nose and throat were visible because she was sure her entire body was red even without the suit. Much to her relief, her partner continued to prattle on in complete unawareness of her behavior.

"I mean the majority of the time I spent was on trying to figure out how to whistle. Once you've got that covered, you're more than halfway there," he began walking in tiny circles while he spoke. "And I'm sure you already know how to—"

He stopped walking when he finally took a good look at her, noticing the arms she'd wrapped around herself and the slight hunch in her shoulders. The fact that she refused to meet his eyes didn't do her any favors either.

"Oh my gosh," the words left his lips with excessive excitement and she groaned.

"Kitty—" she warned.

"Ohhhh my gosh."

He started shifting from one foot to the other in an eager sort of dance. His pupils were blown wide and she wished she could wipe the adorable, but annoying, smile he wore off his face.

"Chat Noir," she warned again.

"You can't do it, can you?"

The roll of her eyes followed by the long-suffering sigh was all the answer he needed. Of course it was, they knew each other well enough that a single look or a slight gesture from one was all the other needed as a directive in battle.

"Okay, now I _have _to hear this."

"No."

"Please?"

"No way."

"Come onnnnn," he begged, falling forward to fling his arms around her waist.

She stumbled at the sudden added weight and spent a few seconds trying to pry off the overdramatic superhero who now clung to her before giving up. Satisfying his curiosity was easier than trying to best him physically. It wasn't that she could not whistle, but her attempts always resulted in an… unique sound.

Well, at the very least, it was probable that she'd make him regret asking. She pouted her lips and gave it her best shot.

The sound caused him to dislodge himself from her with abrupt swiftness and stand up straight in surprise. One hand made a slow journey towards his face before clamping over his mouth. She put both hands on her hips and dared him to laugh which, to his credit, he didn't. Instead, he pulled his hand away to reveal two rows of perfect, white teeth gleaming behind lips pulled taut from ear to ear.

Just what the hell made him so damn happy?

"You have a whistle like no one else, my lady."

She swore he almost sounded as if he were swooning. That made her confused and she was about to ask what he meant by that. However, he happened to luck out as both her earrings and his ring rang out almost in harmony with each other, warning them that their time together was drawing to a close. His grin crossed over into lopsided territory and he offered her a mock salute with two fingers before bidding her a fond farewell and leaping from the rooftop. It took several seconds for her to shake herself free of her shock at his reaction and begin swinging her way back towards school. When her feet touched the floor of the bathroom after throwing herself inside through the window mere moments before her transformation dissolved, the realization hit her and she smothered a curse.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng could never attempt to whistle in public again.

* * *

They called themselves Obfuscator and they were making a fine mess of Paris over the course of their rampage. The City of Lights was less than living up to its name as every streetlight, headlight, lamp and electronic device went dark. Even the sun overhead was blotted out by thick, black clouds. Visibility was close to zero. The sound of large, scraping claws and loud hisses and growls were little more than an auditory illusion, she'd finally realized. Her guess was that their latest victim had been teased for their fear of the dark despite the fact that they were no longer a child.

Now it was everyone else's turn to be afraid.

Ladybug had been separated from Chat after a blow to the chest with Obfuscator's giant flashlight launched him into the air for several blocks. She wanted to try looking for him (and she used that term in the _loosest _sense possible, considering her current situation), but calling out to him seemed like a bad idea. Using her communicator was equally inadvisable for the same reason. Any sound or source of light would easily give away her location. Sure it would be hard to pick out her voice amongst the confused yelling of everyone else, but that wouldn't do her kitty any favors either.

That was right about when the realization of what she had to do blew through her mind like a speeding freight train, leaving debris and buffeting wind in its wake.

Ladybug let a quiet groan escape before stretching her arms out to feel around her. The smoothness of glass met her right hand and she guessed it was the front window of the shop she landed by before everything went dark. That shop faced the east and, if she recalled correctly, Chat's trajectory had him heading due south. Skimming her fingers along the surface of the window, she kept her right hand outstretched and began to slowly walk southward.

Her yo-yo was helpful in determining if her path was unobstructed as she continued forward and she let it fly at a set distance in front of her at regular intervals. She was thankful that the darkness had brought all traffic to a halt as trying to cross the streets would have been even more perilous than it was when fully lit. Once she decided she'd progressed far enough, she swallowed the lump in her throat along with a good portion of her pride.

And whistled.

Well, insofar as one could describe the sound as a whistle.

She did it two additional times as she kept moving but heard nothing in response. Taking a deep breath, she tried to whistle harder and louder. This continued for half a minute until she had to lean against the wall to her right and suck in several heaving breaths. When she straightened up again to continue, she heard it in the distance. It was the same sound of the bird she remembered from over a week before. Her first instinct was to dismiss it as just a bird, but it didn't sound quite right. With the exception of only a handful of birds, most of them did not sing when the sun wasn't out. Moreover, this particular bird sounded almost human.

It was him. It had to be. He recognized her and was answering her back so that he didn't give himself away either.

Hope restored, she whistled back until her lips went numb. They were getting closer and closer, she could tell by the increase in volume of his call. She was about to round the corner her still-searching fingers told her she was nearing when she collided with a very familiar body that rushed towards her at full speed, sending them both to the ground. He'd been running? Did his night vision even work in complete darkness? She would have to ask him about that later.

A sigh of relief and a short laugh rumbled through the chest on which she now laid.

"Found you," he whispered.

She grunted, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"Not like I made it that difficult."

"As I've said before, you have a whistle like no one else."

She could hear the teasing grin in his voice without having to see it and she nudged him with her elbow.

"Don't remind me," she let out a woeful moan. "I've had to stop myself from whistling in public on several occasions for fear that you were close enough by to find out my identity."

He scoffed and she wondered into what theatrical pose he'd arranged himself with that reaction.

"I would never do that to you, my lady. Never without your permission."

"And they say chivalry is dead," she deadpanned.

"Not as long as this cat's still around," the pride in his voice was palpable. "The last thing I'd want is to ruffle my beautiful songbird's feathers."

Ladybug made her eyeroll as audible as she could.

"Anyway, I think I have a plan for our flashlight-wielding foe."

"Oh, care to en_light_en me?"

There was no stopping the loud groan that escaped her mouth. She quickly recovered and reached out for the bell she knew was at his neck to pull him closer and whisper her idea in his ear. She almost ignored the gleeful yelp he let out when she did so.

Almost.

One perfectly timed Cataclysm, a Lucky Charm and a well-deserved fist bump later, Paris was once again illuminated and things were put to rights. But, before she could hurry off, Chat stopped her with one hand.

"I meant what I said earlier, you know," he'd fixed her with an earnest stare. "Never without your permission."

And, with that, he walked away.

* * *

Thus began the strangest game of 'blind man's bluff' between one Marinette Dupain-Cheng and one Adrien Agreste.

It started when Marinette had stopped by a local grocer during an after school errand because the baskets of ripe strawberries that sat proudly along the streetside display had given rise to an intense bout of spontaneous design inspiration. She dug a sketchbook and pencil from her bag and soon filled three pages with notes, scribbles and a few basic designs. Flipping back through the pages, she nodded in approval at her efforts and, before she could stop herself, she attempted an impressed whistle.

Everything within her wanted her to frantically look around to see if anyone heard or noticed, but she remained still and forced herself to calmly put her book away. She was about to give herself a mental pat on the back for her restraint when another sound stopped her. It came from inside the store itself from the… cheese section? Marinette froze, unsure what to do when the familiar chirping whistle started again, but had not moved any closer. If anything, it seemed to be moving further away, heading towards the back corner of the store.

He was warning her that he was in the area.

She took that as her cue to make a hasty exit, and she did. Her pulse pounded in her ears the entire way back to the bakery and all the way up the stairs into her room. Throwing her bag to one side, she slumped onto her chaise lounge, draping one arm across her face. Her breathing eventually slowed from heavy gasps to a more even cadence.

"That was close Tikki," she mumbled from behind her arm. "Too close."

The tiny, cookie-loving god that often resided in her purse emerged from said sanctuary to regard her charge.

"Well, he did say he wouldn't find you unless you wanted him to. It was pretty nice of him to let you know he was nearby like that."

"Yeah," she sighed in agreement. "I guess so."

* * *

Adrien was at yet another park for yet another photoshoot. It was too hot, he'd been there too long and there were too many people milling about trying to catch a glimpse of him. His ever-patient smile was plastered on his face to hide his irritation while he waited to be dismissed to take a break. It was a testament to his mood that he harbored a secret wish for someone, anyone to become akumatized just so he had an excuse to leave early. Of course, that never happened and the photographer finally waved him off, grumbling something about his camera while walking away.

Well, he wasn't finishing early, but he would take what he could get.

Reclining on a bench under a shady tree, he let his head fall back to look up at the branches that stretched overhead. He spotted a small lark hopping along one of the narrower offshoots and he smiled up at it. Entertained by the small, intermittent jumps the creature made, he gave in to his urge to call out to it. The bird stopped and cocked its head to one side to look down at him so he did it again. It was less effective and the bird chose to ignore him, but he heard a distinct discordant strain from beyond the park fence. His hands trembled from excitement and nerves and he whistled again.

But, there was no response.

The disappointed frown that formed on his face was there for less than a second before it was replaced with a sunny smile born of sheer optimism. It didn't even falter when the photographer beckoned for him to return. He'd found the strength he required to endure the following grueling hours of endless pose, lighting and wardrobe changes.

He knew his lady was somewhere closeby and that was all he needed.

* * *

They continued in that vein for the better part of a year, trading whistles back and forth both in costume and out, but never venturing any further to locate the source of the sound. Adrien respectfully kept his distance while Marinette usually ran at the first sound of her partner. When they met as their alter-egos, there was an unspoken rule between them that they wouldn't discuss the details of any of their almost-meetings. Chat would throw out the occasional comment that it had been nice to 'see' his lady outside of the suit on whichever day they didn't quite cross paths, but nothing ever progressed from there.

At least until one afternoon when they were both in the school locker rooms, unbeknownst to the other. Adrien was getting ready for fencing practice while Marinette was on the other side of a bank of lockers trying to talk herself down from a fit of hysterical crying. Lila had returned once again from some fabricated overseas trip and was on the warpath that day. Despite her best efforts to avoid the poisonous girl, she still managed to end up in point-blank range of her lies and vitriol. She was tired and angry and her heart hurt. Her silent pep-talk kept the butterflies at bay, but only in the barest sense and Tikki could only do so much to reassure her.

She felt alone and she hated it. It wasn't that she needed someone to put an arm around her and let her cry into their shoulder, though that would be nice. She just needed to know that someone was there and that they acknowledged her. Her entire body shook and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself and a trembling whistle escaped her lips. Marinette knew it was improbable that her kitty was anywhere near, but she felt as if he was the only other person she could call on.

Adrien's ears perked up at the sound and he looked around the empty room. She sounded close. Very close. But, she also sounded sad. There was something almost depressing about the tone of her whistle, giving it an awful, heart-wrenching quality. He immediately whistled back and waited for her response.

There was a hiccup, followed by another somber whistle. She hadn't moved any closer or further away.

He decided it was time to make a move and left his fencing gloves and helmet behind to walk closer, whistling each time he advanced a few steps. Each time, she answered back having not moved an inch. His steps slowed as he neared the partition between the rooms and he whistled one last time.

That time, her reply came from a spot much closer to his own. Adrien gulped and sucked in a long breath.

"If you don't want me to come any closer, tell me now and I'll leave," he paused to lick his lips. "But it's breaking my heart to hear you so sad and I can't do anything about it."

Nothing was said, but he heard her whistle. She was closer than ever. All he had to do was round the corner and she'd be right there.

So he did.

* * *

"You know, the day you randomly decided to skip out on our trip to the movies five minutes before everyone was supposed to meet up makes so much more sense now."

It was a windy night and they'd taken shelter on a secluded rooftop, behind a wall. Chat Noir looked down at his partner, whose head rested on his lap. The glowing moonlight above them created a halo when reflected in her midnight hair and she laughed.

"I'm serious," he insisted. "You never turned down a chance to see a movie with all of us so I was floored when Nino said something came up and you had to bail."

Ladybug reached over to where his hand lay on the ground next to him and picked it up, lacing her fingers between his. She smiled up at him.

"Correction; I never turned down a chance to see a movie with _you _."

He mulled that statement over for a moment before nodding.

"Huh, you're right."

"Alya thought I'd lost my damn mind, which I kind of did considering how I ran hell for leather back home."

It was his turn to laugh, his eyes glittering with mirth. He rubbed an idle thumb against the back of her hand. Ladybug sighed and shifted slightly to find a more comfortable spot on his lap.

"I suppose I now understand why you suddenly had to leave Kagami behind during your picnic together back when you were trying to date her."

He looked up at the sky to watch an errant cloud pass over the moon.

"She told you about that, huh?"

"She told me a lot of things," though he couldn't see the sly smile on her face when she said it, it was quite present in the tone of her voice.

"I wasn't _trying _to date her."

"Yes you were."

He sighed.

"Yeah, I was. I felt guilty when I heard you that day, knowing you were so close while I was out eating salade niçoise in a park with another woman."

A graceless snort forced its way out of her, "You didn't even know who I was."

"I knew you were Ladybug," his eyes wandered downward from focusing on the sky to meet hers. "That was enough for me."

Silence stretched out between them, punctuated only by the sounds of wind, voices and vehicles from the city below. Chat looked out across the city and hummed a tuneless melody in an attempt to fill the rest of it.

"Was-was it like that for you and Luka?" he stopped long enough to ask.

Ladybug shrugged as best as she could in her position.

"Maybe? I don't know," she took two steady breaths as she chose her next words. "I really liked him, but it's hard you know? There was a part of me that I could never tell him about. I wanted to, but it wouldn't be right... or fair… to anyone."

"I know exactly what you mean."

"Of course you do. You know me better than I know myself."

"I thought I did, at least," his chuckle was short and self-deprecating.

"Well, now we know everything."

She pulled their linked hands up to rest them on her stomach and just breathed. A fond smile grew on her partner's lips and he pushed several errant strands of hair out of her face with a gentle swipe of a single, clawed finger. They gazed at each other as seconds coalesced into minutes, the realization that they now carried a burden heavier than the enchanted jewelry they wore settled over them both.

"We're gonna be alright, won't we, kitty?"

He gave the hand folded in his a light squeeze.

"Yeah, bug. I think we will be."

She smiled.

"Yeah, we will."

**END**

* * *

**THIS IS MY FIRST TIME, EVERYONE. PLEASE BE GENTLE: I never thought I'd cave and write a fic for this fandom because it would be the equivalent of hurling a snowflake at a glacier. I was having the best time just reading all the other amazing works people have been posting here. Unfortunately for me, this story invaded my mind when I was trying to sleep and refused to leave me alone.**

**This was a fun experiment, brain, but let's never do this again. I actually_ like_ sleeping.**

**FYI: I haven't seen anything past Puppeteer 2 but, OMG I TOTALLY WANT TO. The gifsets I keep seeing are driving me insane.**


	2. What He Needed to Hear

**What He Needed to Hear**

_Bunnix gave Chat Noir a very vague answer when he inquired about his relationship with Ladybug in the future.  
__"__The future's not set in stone," he'd defended in his usual cavalier attitude.  
__What he didn't know at the time was how important and cherished that answer would be as the years went by._

* * *

The day had finally arrived and Adrien rubbed the sleep out of his eyes after turning off his alarm. He checked his phone to see the brightly colored reminder that took up almost half of the screen and hummed in thought. Well, he'd already arranged to be on vacation that day, so he resolved to take his time getting ready before leaving to meet his partner.

Paris was awake and alive that morning. Adults on cell phones chattered on their way to work while children giggled with each other on their way to school. The air was cool and crisp and he kept a leisurely pace through the city, enjoying occasional sips from a steaming cup of coffee in his hand despite the fact that it fogged up his sunglasses each time. No one around him had any idea that the city would, yet again, be at the mercy of an emotionally charged teenager who was controlled by a Miraculous-wielding psychopath.

It was odd being ahead of the curve, for once, on that.

The abandoned office space that became their ersatz meeting place was just as drab as it always was, with exposed ductwork and tall, bare windows that let the morning sun flood into the room unhindered. The beams of sunlight were cloudy with dust motes and he could make out the shape of a silhouette in the far corner of the room where the light never reached. Despite her track record for perpetual lateness in school, Marinette was always the first to arrive on the days they agreed to meet. He raised his cup in greeting and saw her do the same. Together, they finished their coffees in absolute quiet before retreating to opposite corners of the room to suit up.

Alix arrived some time later as she, too, knew what day it was. She hadn't been issued her Miraculous just yet, but she dropped by to let both heroes know she cleared her schedule and would be nearby whenever they needed her. They all agreed to play it loose and make sure that events occurred in the order they should without trying to resist them. All three people knew that day was the day the rabbit Miraculous would fall victim to a Cataclysm and there was nothing they could do about it.

Because it was supposed to happen.

"I remember how strange it was to see you as an adult. I can only imagine what it'll be like seeing us all as kids again," Chat remarked to her.

Alix laughed.

"Yea, I have the memories of seeing my older self, but it'll definitely be weird to see mini me. You know me, though, I'm too cool to be fazed by stuff like that."

Chat chuckled and nodded.

"I remember being very excited by the idea of time travel, especially where it concerned a certain bug," he looked over at his partner, who seemed to be preoccupied with something on her communicator. "I couldn't help myself and asked you what our relationship was like in the future."

"Oh yeah," Alix raised an eyebrow and cast a sly glance at Ladybug before whispering. "Any words of wisdom you want to pass along regarding that?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and closed it again. Shaking his head, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"No, you were there as well, remember? You already know what you're meant to tell me. The whole point of today is to make sure everything happens exactly as it's supposed to."

She shrugged.

"About that, I don't actually remember the exact words I said that day, but I'm sure I'll come up with something good."

Chat gave her an encouraging smile.

"You've never let any of us down before. I'm sure today will be no different."

It was a much longer fight with Timetagger than he'd anticipated and he was beginning to tire. As that was the opening their foe was waiting for, he fell right into the trap laid out for him.

Claws brandished with a Cataclysm at the ready, he was teleported from where he had been running to appear in front of Bunnix, who'd been brought into the fight about halfway through. His momentum carried him the rest of the way and he stumbled into her, his outstretched hand making contact with the watch in the front pocket of her suit. He then tumbled through the empty space left behind after Bunnix blipped out of existence on her way to ancient Egypt.

Well, his idle curiosity as to how it was going to happen was finally sated, at least.

With Bunnix out of the picture, he threw himself back into the fray to keep Timetagger on his toes. The fact that both he and Ladybug had a near endless supply of Cataclysms and Lucky Charms respectively worked against their enemy, and he knew it. He voiced his frustration with them, to which Ladybug offered only a smirk.

"Maybe you should go back to the kiddie pool then, since you can't seem to swim with the big boys."

That appeared to give Timetagger the push he needed to teleport himself to the past to fight their much younger counterparts.

Now, all they had to do was wait.

His mind wandered as he stood in silence next to Ladybug, staring at the setting sun and the Eiffel Tower in the distance. He thought about his teenage years after receiving the black cat Miraculous. How strange and tumultuous they were, but also how peaceful. Things were so much simpler back then. Back before he stumbled headlong into adulthood.

Back before his father was outed as the mastermind behind Paris' akuma attacks, as if orchestrated by some unseen person, who all but left a trail of glowing breadcrumbs that led directly to his front door. Back before the police discovered his mother's body in the bowels of the compound he once called home. Back before the butterfly Miraculous disappeared once again.

Back before the universe decided that Adrien Agreste could bend a little too well and, instead, he needed to break.

* * *

_His ears perked up at the zip of Ladybug's yo-yo and he turned to face the spot where he knew she'd land. Thick clouds covered the entire sky, blocking out any possible celestial illumination. He relied on the light pollution from the city below to identify the familiar curves of her body in the darkness. The air was thick with moisture, a telltale sign that heavy rains were due at any time. He knew he had no control over the weather—that would've been Aurore's deal back when she was Stormy Weather—but it seemed to be the perfect match to his mood._

_Ladybug brushed the hair that clung to her in the humidity out of her face. He felt the twisting turmoil inside him ease a bit at the sight of her._

"_What's up? Did you find out something important about the missing Miraculous?"_

_He shook his head wrapping an arm across his torso to grip at his opposing elbow._

"_No, I-I just needed to talk to you."_

_He wondered if he looked as small as he felt. Not that it mattered, because Ladybug wasn't even looking at him. She was busy checking the time on her communicator._

"_I'm sorry Chat, but it'll have to wait. I told Adrien Agreste I would check up on him tonight."_

_Instead of the irritated growl he wanted to make, he chose to go with a dismissive noise._

"_Don't worry about him, he'll be fine."_

"_But I promised him I'd—"_

"_I __**said**_ _don't worry about him," the words came out harsher than he intended, but he was loathe to take them back._

_He'd had enough of being the somber, contemplative Adrien around her. He didn't want to dutifully attend his (court-mandated) therapist sessions designed solely to making sure he never became like his father. He wanted to get angry and irrational. He wanted to scream and cry until his voice disappeared. There was only one other person who would understand what he was going through and she was currently reeling back as if his words had burned her. Her eyes narrowed at him._

"_What's gotten into you?"_

"_I could ask you the same thing, you know," he sneered. "Your own partner, the person who has followed you blindly and never left your side is coming to you because he's having a hard time coping and all you can think about is __**him**__?!" he spat the last word out as if it were poison. "Why?"_

_Ladybug was unsettled by his behavior, this much was obvious. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Recent events had pulled them both too taut and just as he was beginning to snap, so too was she hanging by a thread._

_They always did move in perfect synch with each other._

"_Because I've been in love with him for years from the minute he lent me his umbrella on the second day of school. And now I'm the reason he's lost his only living parent to the judicial system!" she almost screamed, her voice suddenly heavy and hoarse. "This is the least I can do for him to make up for the fact that I selfishly stared at the back of his head in class for years and dreamed up an entire life for us, down to the names of our children, but never considered how he felt about any of it. I had ample opportunities and couldn't tell him. So this is my penance for basically ruining his life."_

_Ladybug clawed an irritated hand through her hair while he choked on the heavy, saturated air. The curse that he tried to keep internalized snuck out of his lips without his permission._

"_M-Marinette?"_

_Her eyes opened wide with fear and he watched her shrink into herself while all of the color in her face drained away. Of course, that was all she needed to figure _him _out. His lady was known for unparalleled brilliance and quick thinking, he knew she had all the information she needed to reach the right conclusion. _

"_Adrien?" she asked in the smallest voice he'd ever heard._

_She approached him, timid and unsure, and looked at his face. Really looked at it. He found it hard to meet her gaze._

"_It's really you in there, isn't it?"_

_He could only nod and she took two steps back, her hands began shaking._

"_Oh no, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I messed up."_

_His laugh was mirthless and hollow. A grimace stretched his lips thin across his teeth and his eyes shut all on their own._

"_Yeah, well, welcome to the club. I lived under the same roof as our sworn enemy for years and never noticed."_

_She shook her head._

"_Kitty, you can't blame yourself for that."_

_He glanced at her then, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. She looked ready to cry at any moment and every desire he'd usually have to hold and comfort her was replaced with numbness._

"_Just like how you can't blame yourself for 'essentially ruining my life'?"_

_Her rebuttal died on her lips and he sighed._

"_Exactly," he turned away from her. "Look, I'll always be your partner and I'm still here to help you every step of the way until we find out what happened to the butterfly Miraculous. But, I think we both need some time to sort ourselves out."_

_He left her standing there and disappeared into the city. At the very least, they knew the odds were fairly slim that either of them would be the target of an ill-willed butterfly. Whoever set things up for his father to take the fall while they disappeared with the Miraculous was avoiding attention for the time being. Thus, he made a hasty exit to put substantial distance between them, reaching the privacy of his apartment just before the sky opened up and the inevitable downpour began, painting his windows with sheets of water. He knew he wouldn't be able to withstand being around for her breakdown._

_And he didn't think she'd want to be around for his._

* * *

They walked on eggshells around each other for well over a year after that. Sure, they still fought alongside each other when Papillon's replacement finally made their presence known to the citizens of Paris. They fought as well as they always had, each attuned to the others movements and gestures as if they were born knowing them their entire life. They had a job to do and the safety of the city and its inhabitants overruled any complicated feelings. It was everything outside of battle that had fallen apart.

The longing stares and wistful sighs were still there as they were both guilty of those. But, as each could read the other as fluently as mastering a second language, they knew neither of them were prepared for a proper reconciliation. Chat Noir didn't know how to talk to his Lady anymore and Ladybug was at a loss for words with her kitten. Similarly, and much to the confusion of their friends, Marinette and Adrien avoided each other like the plague with only the occasional awkward small talk when they were forced to be social.

So, they stood side-by-side without a word spoken between them.

When Bunnix returned with the familiar ball of polka dotted paper, they sprung into action without a second thought, making quick work of disarming Timetagger through the portal so their younger selves could finish the job.

Once the Miraculous Cure restored the city, Bunnix approached Chat looking uncharacteristically timid. She was one of the strongest of their allies, to be able to withstand the taxing psychological and physical effects of time travel. He knew this most recent akumatization was likely to be the most difficult one of all, what with encasing herself in stone to wait for at least a couple millenia only to be sent back with Ladybug's supposed note of surrender.

The sun prepared its closing remarks along the horizon behind her, casting deep shadows across her face.

"I'm sorry," she sighed downward at the white parasol in her hands. "I was so caught up in making sure things happened in the right order, I don't think I worded my answer very well when Kitty Noir asked me about you and Ladybug."

He smiled, appreciative of her worry despite the fact that it was the least important detail in the grander scheme of things.

"Don't worry about it." he assured her. "You told me exactly what I needed to hear."

Bunnix dropped her transformation, becoming Alix once more and handing the Miraculous back to Ladybug. They both thanked her for her hard work and she left the pair with a subdued wave. The spotted superhero eyed her partner with a curious look.

"You know, I remember what she said to us back then," Ladybug began, turning to face him. "How was that something you needed to hear?"

He stared at her in awe for a moment before responding. This was the first time in what felt like forever that either of them started a dialogue that wasn't related to an akuma in any way. This was the first time she'd spoken to him without either fumbling her words or aborting the conversation altogether and walking in the opposite direction. So, he did what he always did.

He was honest with her.

"Because, even though I didn't know it at the time, that was the one thing that kept me going when it seemed like everything around me was falling apart."

Chat was cautious, but moved closer and took both of her hands in his. He could see the faintest hints of tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. It was obvious that she still carried a great deal of guilt for what happened over a year ago. It was obvious because he, too, was weighed down by a similar guilt.

"The thing that was most important. The one thing I really needed to hear," he paused to release one of her hands so he could run his fingers through her fringe and tuck it behind her ear, "was that, even after so much time had passed, I was still by your side. That we were still a team."

Her smile was nervous and wobbly and she seemed to have a hard time meeting his eyes for too long. The tears in her own becoming more pronounced until one finally slipped down her cheek. He brushed it away with a swipe of his thumb.

"Kitty I— after everything we've said to each other, everything we've been through, I don't deserve you."

An empathetic breath left him and he looked skyward.

"The feeling's mutual, bug. But, this is the way it's always been and I pray it always will be."

He could feel the wetness on his own cheeks by then and he pulled her into a hug to keep her from noticing them. She wound her arms around his waist and he sighed into her hair.

"You and me—"

She squeezed him tight around the middle, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

"Against the world," she finished for him.

**END**

* * *

**Today's story is proudly brought to you by ANGST Co. Ltd.: the manufacturers of a variety of world-famous products including I Just Want to Be Alone to Think About My Feelings™, Why Am I Like This?™ and the ever popular Tragic Backstory™. A number of you encouraged me to write more and post again for this fandom. So, here I am, back by (not really) popular demand. This is pretty much the only other story idea I had because I was so fixated on the Timetagger episode. Like, unhealthily so. There was so much that wasn't said or shown (on purpose, I'm sure) that you couldn't help but wonder what all the possibilities were.**

**This is one such possibility.**

**Do I enjoy writing reveals that happen under the worst possible circumstances? No. Are they fun to write, despite that? Absolutely not. I'm actually more partial to things of the fluffy persuasion. I knew this one wasn't going to be one of those but I went ahead and wrote it anyway like the glutton for punishment I am.**

**I hope you liked it!**


	3. Clothes Encounters

**CLOTHES ENCOUNTERS**

**_Marinette has the talent to create some truly miraculous things and great talent can sometimes be accompanied by great trouble. But this might just be exactly the sort of trouble she was looking for. Miraculess AU._**

"I can't do this Alya."

Marinette whined to the face of her best friend displayed on her phone screen. Sitting on the floor of her apartment, she was in the process of untangling herself from a bolt of fabric that went rogue from the others which were leaned up against the wall.

"Yes you can. I believe in you," Alya's voice cheered her on despite the tinny distortion of her phone's speaker. "You got this!"

"But I'm just an _intern_, I'm not supposed to be actually designing anything yet. Much less an entire outfit for Gabriel Agreste's son!"

The arm that wasn't holding her phone flailed in frustration before landing in the pile of fabric she'd gathered in her lap with a muffled plop. Alya shook her head at her friend and clicked her tongue.

"Listen, I know how you feel about gossip…" Alya began.

"But?"

"But, word on the street is Gabriel does this to all of his interns. He gives them either a seemingly impossible or overly daunting task to test them," her best friend explained. "It's like his sadistic way of testing their mettle and weeding out the weak ones each year. The ones who make it through are usually first in line for a job offer."

Marinette resisted the urge to ask how Alya knew any of that, but realized she already knew the answer. Alya Césaire could get almost anyone to spill their secrets if she had enough time (and enough Euros to keep them lubricated with the beverage of their choice). It wasn't farfetched at all that she'd run into the occasional designer. Being best friends with Marinette meant she knew more industry lingo than most to strike up a conversation.

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"It's not supposed to, Marinette. It's supposed to challenge you," Alya's face grew larger on the screen as she brought her own phone closer. "Will you rise to the occasion or will you be another designer with a sob story at the bar?"

"But this is a whole ensemble. For A-Adrien!'

She hated that she still stuttered his name, even when she wasn't anywhere in his presence. Out of everyone at the company, he was probably the least intimidating person there. And yet, she continually forgot how words worked whenever she was around him which, unfortunately, was often. Interns were usually dispatched for various reasons; running errands and fetching items as people demanded them. It seemed like her week wouldn't be complete if she wasn't tripping over her own two feet in front of Adrien at some point—at a planning meeting, before a press conference, in a random corridor—while carrying anything ranging from extension cords to memory cards to bottled water. They saw each other so often, they were on a one-sided first name basis; as in Adrien would use hers and she would rather die a slow and painful death than refer to him as anything other than 'Mr. Agreste.'

It probably didn't help that he was so damned nice about it. He would always help her up, ask if she was alright, and then proceed to make brief small talk with her. It wasn't much, the odd comment here and there about the weather, asking if she needed his help with anything and, on at least two occasions, a curious interest in the enamel pins on her denim jacket that day. She kept her answers simple for the most part, lest her words suffer the same fate as her feet, except for the one time he noticed the Jagged Stone pin she had on her lapel and she waxed excitedly about the musician for a good fifteen seconds. He didn't seem to mind and even eagerly nodded along as she spoke before her brain caught up with her mouth and she had to awkwardly tear herself away from him just to avoid getting lost in the greenness of his eyes

As far as most people at the company were concerned, she was invisible until they needed something from her. To be acknowledged by anyone, much less to be willingly engaged by them was a rare occurrence. For the acknowledging party to be the veritable poster child of the Agreste brand, well, that was high on the list of impossibilities.

"I have an incredible burnt orange and cream suit in my closet that says you're full of bullshit," Alya raised an eyebrow at her. "And I fought you on that for the longest while."

"Yeah, you said you didn't want to look like someone poured Bailey's in a shot of Cointreau," Marinette laughed.

"And now it's the best item in my wardrobe! I feel powerful, like a more confident version of myself every time I wear it and it never fails to turn heads. I have yet to be denied a story pitch when I wear that suit," she raved. "Someone's even said it makes me look 'foxy'."

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Nino's opinion does not count."

"Excuse you, his opinion is the only one that matters," Alya corrected her. "Besides yours, of course."

"Of course."

Alya dismissed her patronizing agreement with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, all I'm saying is that I've never seen you back down from a challenge. So, you'd better put your thinking cap on and figure out your game plan for blowing Gabriel's mind."

"I'd settle for at least a nod of recognition."

"Aim for the stars, love," Alya laughed. "Aim for the stars."

"I'll try my best, Al. Thanks."

After saying their goodbyes, Marinette tossed her phone onto the nearby coffee table and resumed gathering the runaway fabric before rolling the bolt back up. Tucking the fabric back with the others, she mulled over her problem further. Alya was right, of course. She wasn't backing down from this challenge. In fact, the more she thought about it the more fired up she became. She could totally do this. She could make an outstanding suit for Adrien; the man who stealthily invaded her fantasies to the point that she'd already picked out names for their three future children…

She couldn't do this.

Her parents would always tell her to 'find her passion' whenever she encountered the occasional moments of doubt. Unfortunately, passion—or lack thereof—was not the problem here. If anything, she was too passionate about her assignment, but not in a good way. She needed a level head about as much as she needed the assurance that she could do this project justice. A little luck wouldn't be amiss either.

That sparked a thought. Marinette heard Alya's words replaying in her head.

"_I feel powerful, like a more confident version of myself every time I wear it…"_

She promptly strode to the small closet in her bedroom and swam through the sea of hangars until she found the red and black peplum jacket she was looking for. It was a piece she'd made after she found several yards of a high quality polka dot printed silk and wool blend being sold at an attractively discounted price. She didn't know anyone else who would be keen on wearing such a bold pattern, so she kept it for herself. However, much like Alya's claims about her suit, Marinette also believed that this jacket was a lucky charm of sorts. It was even the jacket she wore when she was offered an internship at Gabriel.

Shrugging it on over her loose fitting pajama shirt required a few adjustments, but she buttoned it closed and walked back to where she'd left her sketchbook on the coffee table. Now that she had a very fashionable confidence boost, she settled in with a blank page and a freshly sharpened pencil and got to work.

* * *

"Mr. Agreste has approved your design and authorized you to start work on fabrication of the ensemble immediately."

Marinette stared at Gabriel's assistant, Natalie, as she stood across from her. The passing notion that this woman could secretly be a robot was never far from her mind. Official results from a Turing Test notwithstanding, the monotonous way in which she delivered the directive to her that morning certainly wasn't helping disprove that theory. The words were said so plainly, it took a full two seconds before they registered in her mind.

"Wait, he actually wants me to make it?" She finally asked in confusion. "I thought I was only supposed to provide some conceptual designs."

If the other woman had some emotional reaction to her question, there was no way anyone would know since none of her facial features moved even the tiniest bit. The only thing she did was nod once.

"That was the initial assignment, yes," the assistant confirmed. "However, Mr. Agreste said that he found your design interesting and would like to see how you make it a reality."

Marinette gulped. Was he still testing her?

"Did … did he provide a deadline?"

Natalie nodded again. "You have until the first week of next month to complete the last fitting."

"I—" she started to protest.

"The rest of your responsibilities will be divided among the other interns so you can make this your priority."

"Okay—"

"And you will schedule Adrien's fittings through me when they are necessary."

Marinette's brain suffered the equivalent of an internal memory dump when the realization hit her that she would have to _touch_ Adrien. Repeatedly. By the time she regained awareness of her surroundings, Natalie had already left. She stared down at the design Natalie returned to her. A note was stuck to it listing Adrien's measurements.

It was black on black on black: jacket, vest and pants creating a slim silhouette with embellishments stitched in silver thread along the seams. A narrow tie of burnished gold was the only prominent statement of color throughout, peeking out from under the black and charcoal brocade vest. She'd wanted something to bring out the greens of his eyes, but settled for an understated accent; vibrant green embroidered finishing around the buttonholes.

She already had a general idea of the fabrics she would prefer to use and putting together the base garments would take a little time, but she could get them done quickly enough. It was all the silver thread accents that would be tedious. Moreover, she had little more than three weeks to finish it, which meant she was wasting precious time she didn't have to spare with worrying. Thus, the worrying stopped abruptly and Marinette opened the planner on the laptop beside her and began plotting a timeline.

Gruelling days followed by multiple all-nighters flew by in a blur that more or less resembled a frenetic montage of fabric acquisition which then led to furious measuring, re-measuring, cutting and sewing. Fabric flew this way and that. Pre-wound bobbins of thread were lined up like soldiers ready to march and her hands were thoroughly abused and pierced by wayward pins. All social engagements were canceled and she was only scarcely aware of the fact that other people existed. By the time she scheduled the first fitting, Marinette wasn't sure if she was running on adrenaline or caffeine at that point because she sure as hell wasn't running on any kind of quality sleep.

When the day of the first fitting arrived, Marinette made sure to wear her lucky jacket as added insurance. She already knew she was going to make an ass of herself in front of Adrien, but she hoped it would at least lessen the severity of her embarrassment. It seemed to be helping as she managed to speak actual complete sentences in front of him, not to mention her usual delay of ten seconds between when he'd ask her a question and when she'd stop internally drooling at the musculature she could make out underneath his t-shirt to answer him was cut in half. She even managed to crack a weak joke. And he _laughed. _As far as she was concerned, that morning was starting off as a rollicking success.

Of course, that also meant that things had the potential to get much, much worse.

The downturn started the minute Adrien strode out from behind the changing screen that had been set up in the small office she was allowed to use for her project. 'Strode' technically wasn't the right term to use for the amount of swagger in the man's step when he went to look at himself in the large mirror mounted on a nearby wall, but it's probably the most applicable in this instance. Marinette, of course, just watched him move in silent awe as he turned this way and that in front of the mirror with a wild sort of smirk on his face.

"I gotta admit, my old man sure knows how to pick 'em. I think I've just found my new favorite suit."

Since when has Adrien ever referred to Gabriel as anything other than 'Father'? And why did his voice suddenly have a sultry depth to it? Marinette wondered if she'd been spirited away to some parallel dimension when she was too busy trying to find anything else to look at while Adrien was changing.

"Uh, Mr. Agreste—"

"Please, you can call me Adrien you know."

He winked at her in a way that had her honestly wondering why she wasn't swooning in every language she didn't know. What on Earth happened to the quiet, polite Adrien that entered her office earlier? It was as if he'd become someone else entirely the moment he put the suit on.

"Is there anything wrong with the fit?"

She focused hard on her main task so that she couldn't be distracted by Adrien's sudden onset flirtatiousness. It only helped in the barest sense because she then had to be subjected to watching him turn and bend and flex in the mirror as he looked over the suit with a critical eye.

"The shirt and vest are a perfect fit. Seams and stitching appear to be fine as well, but the jacket's sleeves are a bit longer than I usually wear them. You can probably bring the shoulders in a bit as well," he rattled his opinion off at top speed. "I'm sure Nathalie can provide you with more detailed instructions as to the preferred hem length on the pants."

Marinette just nodded, before she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and slipped a small pin cushion onto her wrist.

"I don't think I ever want to take this off."

"Well, unless you want to wear a poorly fitting suit, you don't have much of a choice there."

He bent down to her level as she walked around him, one hand hovering in the air and at the ready with another pin should she need it. She stopped when she noticed how close his face was to hers.

"Eager to get me out of the suit, are you?"

"So I can make the final adjustments to it and reclaim my previous sleep schedule?" She sighed. "Yes."

"I could just take it off right here," he threatened, grinning as he loosened the tie around his neck.

She almost stuck him with a pin for that, but she shrugged instead.

"Suit yourself," Marinette countered, surprised by her own nonchalant response.

"Or _de_-suit myself as the case may be."

He slowly worked the knot on the tie lower and lower until the entire thing fell from his neck, not once breaking eye-contact with her. She broke first, walking back to her work table and removing the pin cushion from her wrist before slamming it down on the surface and turning her harshest glare on him.

"Look, _Mr. Agreste_, if this is some dare or weird game of chicken, I'm not playing."

He immediately cowed, balling the tie up in both of his hands before heading over to the changing room. Were he an animal, Marinette imagined his ears would droop and his tail would've been between his legs. Her frustration pushed out of her in a loud, rasping exhale and she braced both of her hands against the table, letting her head hang low and her shoulders bunch around her ears. She stayed like that until he finished changing out of the suit.

"I left the suit on the hangers in the dressing room," a small voice came from behind her.

"That's fine," she said without bothering to turn around. "There shouldn't be a need for another fitting other than the final, but I'll let Natalie know if there is."

There was a long, drawn out silence and she wondered if he snuck out of the room without saying another word. She was tempted to look, but chose to focus on organizing her supplies instead. If she looked at him again, she didn't want to feel irrationally responsible for whatever words came out of his mouth as a result.

"And, um ... I'm sorry, Marinette. I don't know what came over me."

"Adrien—"

By the time she turned around, he'd already left. All that remained was the sound of the door closing behind him. Marinette looked about the empty room as if it would answer the myriad of questions racing through her mind. Her jacket suddenly felt too constricting and too warm. Shrugging it off to toss it over a nearby chair, she froze with the garment hanging from her now clenched fingers.

Wave after wave of emotions hit her and she nearly doubled over. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to collapse into a puddle of wistful, lovelorn sighs.

Slowly, as if it would attack her, she slipped the jacket back on and buttoned it closed. Suddenly, she was no longer the emotional wreck she'd been mere seconds before. It was like someone had taken the majority of her feelings and sealed them tightly in a jar. She frowned in thought, running her hands along the sleeves of the jacket. Thus began several minutes of Marinette taking off the jacket and putting it back on; sometimes in quick succession and other times she'd wait a while in between.

The last time she removed the jacket, she threw it across the room and picked up her phone to message Alya.

* * *

"Okay, what's with the mid-morning SOS that had me running halfway across the city?"

Alya slid into the seat across the tiny cafe table from Marinette. The other woman was already on her second cup of coffee, a stained napkin with all manner of doodles and notes scribbled on it sat half-crumpled in front of her. She stared, in a daze, at nothing in particular until Alya waved a hand in front of her face.

"You said you've never been unsuccessful when making a story pitch in that suit I made you," Marinette mumbled, still not looking at her friend. "Is that true?"

Alya made a confused noise. "That's what you called me over here to ask?"

"Is it also true that it makes you feel like a different person?"

"Mari, what's going on?"

"I don't know," she admitted, finally looking at Alya with wide, fearful eyes. "I really don't know."

The story of what happened that morning spilled from her lips faster than her brain could keep up with it and she ended up repeating parts if only to confirm with herself that she'd said them. Her best friend listened carefully to the entire thing, as a proper journalist like herself would. While Marinette felt physically exhausted by the time she finished, Alya seemed to be teeming with energy.

"I don't see what the problem is here. Maybe you've been blessed with some sort of gift that allows you to make clothes that enhance the wearer's personality," Alya shrugged then waggled her eyebrows. "Not to mention, you seem to have caught Adrien's attention."

Marinette's face burned an intense shade of red. "I can't let him wear it again. I won't be responsible for him embarrassing himself."

Alya had opened her mouth and looked like she was getting ready to disagree, when she stopped, shook her head and started again.

"Wait a minute. You've made things for me before that haven't had that effect," she pointed out. "And half of your own wardrobe are things you made for yourself."

"You're right," Marinette breathed.

"If this was caused by something you did, shouldn't every piece you've made produce the same result?" Alya pondered aloud.

Marinette only nodded along eagerly.

"So, if it's not you, then it must be—"

"The fabric!" they said in unison.

"Oh my gosh, how did I not notice that before?" Marinette wailed. "My jacket and yours and Adrien's suits were all made with fabric from the same place. I don't go there often because it's always so expensive, but I will if it's an important project or if there's a sale."

"What's the name of the place?" Alya, clearly intrigued, had her phone out and ready to search for an address.

"Fu's Fabrics. It's in the fashion district."

Alya frowned. "It's not showing up when I search for it."

"It probably wouldn't," Marinette shook her head. "It's a tiny hole-in-the-wall place that I only found because I literally stumbled upon it."

Alya grinned wide and reached across the table to take her best friend's hand in hers. "This smells like an adventure and I am five-thousand percent here for it. Take me there at once."

Checking the time on her phone, Marinette figured she could stay out a little while longer. Since she was going to the fashion district, she could always claim she was there for work-related reasons. Technically she was, after all. Besides, she needed answers and, depending on what those were, she would probably have to source some new fabric and start over from scratch.

Just when she thought she could look forward to getting some actual sleep.

The entrance to Fu's Fabrics was easily missable even when walking along the sidewalk as it was little more than an old wooden door with a tarnished rectangular brass plate on it. Marinette only noticed it after tripping over a crack in the pavement caused her shoe to become loose. When she stopped to lean against a wall and fix her shoe, she noticed the nameplate under her hand.

The door itself led to a set of stairs that took you below street level and into a modestly sized room that was filled from wall to wall with fabric in every color and texture the imagination could conceive. Beautiful, rich fabrics the likes of which she hadn't seen elsewhere. Even Alya gasped quietly in appreciation when they finally entered the shop. The petit, elderly man sitting towards the back—who Marinette assumed was the aforementioned Fu, but never confirmed—waved at her and smiled.

"Back again, Miss Dupain-Cheng," he said and Marinette instantly felt guilty for never actually learning the man's name. "What can I help you find this time?"

She looked back at Alya, hoping her friend would take the lead in asking questions, but found that she was too busy lovingly petting a bolt of green fabric. It was hard to blame her since it was a stunning emerald color and looked to be made of buttery soft silk.

"I was hoping you'd be able to help me answer some questions," she turned back towards the man with a polite smile. "I seem to be encountering some… issues with the fabric I recently bought."

He frowned in confusion but nodded. "Absolutely. Anything to help a customer."

Marinette proceeded to tell him an abbreviated version of what she'd encountered with the three pieces she'd made using fabric from his store. Alya joined her about halfway through her explanation to chime in what she could about her own experiences wearing the suit Marinette made. The old man stroked thoughtfully at his beard once they finished before answering.

"Well, it sounds to me like it's working just fine."

"You mean, it's supposed to do that!?" Marinette squeaked.

The man nodded.

"While the fabric itself does have special properties, they are only _potential_ properties. Only someone who is equally special, who puts their whole heart into creating something incredible, can cause them to manifest," he explained. "However, they cannot dictate how it manifests. That is up to the wearer."

"Meaning?"

"It's dependent on the intuitive desire the wearer wishes to fulfill," his simple statement was accompanied by a simple nod.

"Ooh, does that mean Adrien wants to jump your bones? Hell yes, girl!"

Alya held up her hand, expecting a high-five that Marinette did not return.

"But he was so… different," Marinette frowned. "The change was so extreme. I almost couldn't believe it was him."

"Well, that is probably due to the jacket you were wearing at the time."

Marinette was in the process of trying to get Alya to lower her still raised hand when she paused. "What?"

"It's possible that your creations cause different effects when they interact with each other." The man's fingers found his beard again as he talked. "It's been known to happen."

"You're saying that my jacket caused this?"

"Only to the extent that you allowed it to happen."

"What does that even mean?" Marinette was beyond bewildered by that point.

"It means that your young man in question wouldn't have been able to attempt his advances if you weren't inherently receptive to them," he drawled. "Therefore, he recognized your interest and chose to act on it which, in turn, allowed you to recognize his. You're reacting to each other without being held back by your own self-effacement and inhibitions."

Alya raised her hand again, silently requesting a high-five with a grin that could have neatly split her face in half. Again, Marinette avoided it and, instead, tried to swat it away. This was way too much to take in at once. The colors of the fabrics surrounding them on the shelves and walls began to swirl and meld into each other and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

What Fu said made sense. It wasn't a lie that Adrien's sudden attention had thrilled her (about as much as it terrified her). Plus, the way he immediately backed down the minute she indicated that she'd had enough of his behavior did seem rather abrupt considering how pushy he'd been only seconds prior. Even without Alya's enthusiastic hand waving, she'd realized what this meant. It was all just a little too much and her brain chose not to focus on that right then. Because all of this exposition, while informative and extremely overwhelming, could be reduced down to one simple question.

"What am I supposed to tell him?"

She didn't have as much time to ponder over that as she hoped. Sure, several days seemed like a lot of time, but when you're Marinette's brain overanalyzing every potential situation and the advantages and drawbacks therein, it's surprisingly not a lot of time at all. Therefore, the day of Adrien's final fitting arrived all too soon, leaving her petrified, underprepared and tightly buttoned into the protective shelter of her red and black jacket.

He was quieter that morning and noticeably more cautious around her. That was probably a good thing since she too was treating him with kid gloves made of carbon fiber and kevlar. They tiptoed around each other with abbreviated greetings that consisted more of awkward nods than actual words. Once Adrien was back in the suit, she watched him watch her out of the corner of his eye as she circled him, tugging here and there at parts of it until she was satisfied.

"So are you going to keep fiddling with it or are we actually going to talk about what happened last time?"

Crap. Her first plan was to avoid talking about it entirely and hope he was too embarrassed to bring it up. If he didn't bring it up, she wouldn't have to tell him anything and could claim ignorance when he eventually said something ill-advised in the presence of others while wearing the suit. The fact that he apologized meant he seemed to notice that there was something different. That was enough, wasn't it?

Apparently not.

She deflected his question with her own. "What's there to talk about?"

"Well, for one, I believe I owe you an apology."

Were she not wearing her jacket, she was absolutely certain that the look of intense sincerity in his eyes at that moment would have caused her heart an incurable case of the hiccups. There was definitely a shudder, at least. The jacket could only do so much to protect her, especially since she apparently was receptive to his charms (thanks a lot, traitorous hormones).

"You apologized before you left. What else is there to say?"

"That my behavior was inexcusable and disrespectful?" he offered. "And I ended up making you uncomfortable."

She mulled this over for a second, then nodded in agreement.

"Amended apology accepted."

He laughed and another shudder rumbled down her spine before wobbling all the way down to her toes.

"Then, for two, I believe you owe me an explanation."

"An explanation for what?" she asked in a lame attempt to buy herself a scant few seconds.

"Come on, Marinette. You know I've never acted like this around you before and all of that changed the minute I put this on," he gestured to himself. "What's going on here?"

Well, it was worth a shot. She made her bed and now she would have to lie in it; gaudy pillow shams, itchy duvet and all. Heaving a sigh of resignation, she clasped her hands in front of her and stared at the ground. Once she had arranged the first five words she wanted to say in the proper order in her head, she redirected them to her mouth and hoped that the momentum alone would help her keep going.

She told him everything. Well, _almost_ everything.

She conveniently left out the part about how his suit and her jacket interacted. That particular detail didn't seem prudent to share considering his previous attempts at being overtly amorous. No point in giving him extra fuel for that already raging fire. Even with her jacket on, she didn't know how much more she'd be able to withstand. When she finished, she fully expected a comment laced with whatever snark he seemed to now possess. It was a good thing she hadn't held her breath waiting for it or she would have suffocated. He just stood there looking thoughtful.

"Did you know that I don't know how to talk to you for any longer period of time than a few minutes without it sounding scripted like I'm at a groundbreaking or an awards ceremony or some philanthropic publicity event?" he sounded more like he was stating it as a fact rather than asking it. "You're a _real_ person, Marinette. I'm almost always surrounded by fake ones that are either agreeing with everything I say or dictating every aspect of my life. I find myself at a loss around you, but you keep showing up and I keep fearing I'm going to run out of words."

"You seem to be doing just fine now."

Adrien looked down at his suit. "Yeah, and I have you to thank for that. Seriously, you shouldn't feel bad at all about this. You've given me the one thing I never thought I could have; the confidence to speak my mind without a script that's been heavily edited and vetted by three lawyers and a PR team."

"If I were you, I'd keep them on retainer just in case," Marinette warned. "At least, if our last interaction is anything to go by."

"What can I say?" He shrugged and shook his head. "You intimidate me and I panic."

Oh that was _rich_ coming from him. She almost wanted to ask if he'd seen himself in a mirror lately when she realized how ridiculous it would've sounded. Had he forgotten who he was? Who his family was? Had he no self-awareness at all?

"_I_ intimidate _you?_" Marinette pressed a hand to her chest in disbelief. "I think you have that backwards."

"Definitely not, I—wait, you're intimidated by me?"

Her responding laugh was hollow and self-deprecating. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't trip over my own feet and drop things as often as most people think."

He stared at her, confusion melting into a soft smile. "I just thought you were adorably clumsy."

"I'm not just wearing this for my health, you know," she mumbled, pulling her jacket tighter around her and trying to ignore the flare of warmth in her cheeks. "Well, I guess I technically am."

He reached out to touch the sleeve of her jacket but stopped just before his fingertips made contact. Noticing this, she held out her arm to him and closed the distance. She wondered if he was using any pressure at all when his hand finally made contact with the material as she couldn't feel anything.

"So this is really the same as mine?"

"Sort of, I suppose."

Pulling his hand away, Adrien then touched his own jacket. He did that in silence for a few seconds, just stroking his fingers along the seams and stitching. Marinette watched, almost hypnotized by the way the fabric furrowed and folded beneath his touch. Running a thumb along the cuff of one sleeve, he let out a short laugh.

"We're such a mess around each other that neither of us had any idea," he sounded almost awestruck. "We literally have to wear suits of armor just to communicate properly."

She had no idea how she even heard him over the racket of her heart throwing itself repeatedly against her chest. Looking away from him didn't seem to be helping either.

"Well, now that we've passed that hurdle," Marinette cleared her throat. "I'm going to ask you to please, please refrain from embarrassing yourself in front of your father when you wear that."

Adrien looked down at his suit. "You mean I get to keep it?"

"I was under explicit orders to make that suit just for you, so I'm not going to risk getting dismissed by taking it away. And, now you're aware of the risk you're taking by wearing it," she offered him a crooked smile. "The rest is up to you."

He held his hand up as if he were taking an oath. "I promise to be on my absolute best behavior in front of my father, Nathalie and whoever else they decide to parade me in front of for the foreseeable future."

She raised an eyebrow. "What about everyone else?"

"Eh, I'm sure I can rein it in for the most part but," he stretched out the last word, with an impish grin, "if it's you, I don't mind flirting with danger."

"I think you mean flirting with me."

"Same difference."

"You're incorrigible."

"Incorrigible," he rolled the word over his tongue like he was tasting a sip of wine. "Adjective. Also synonymous with 'devastatingly handsome.'"

"That's it. Take off the suit."

Adrien feigned a gasp of shock. "You're not even going to take me out to dinner first?"

"Hmm," Marinette tilted her head to one side, placing a finger to her chin. "I'll think about it."

"If not, I'll just invite you instead."

"The suit, Adrien."

She held out her hand to demand he return it, but he just shook his head and beat a hasty retreat to the door. Sweeping one arm out, he bent low in an exaggerated bow. The motion caused his hair to tumble all over his head, transforming it into a messy mop when he stood upright again. With one hand on the doorknob, he sent her a look that nearly overflowed with a plethora of mischief.

"This was the final fitting, remember? It fits and I like it," he smoothed down only half of his hair in an attempt at mock-preening, rendering it even more ridiculous looking than it was before. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use this entire building as my personal catwalk and tell anyone who asks about the cute intern who made it for me."

"You promised me you'd be—" Her words fell on nonexistent ears as Adrien was already gone and the door clicked shut. "—good."

Several minutes of Marinette's frustrated grumbling over his impetuousness elapsed before the realization finally dawned on her that he'd all but asked her out to dinner. Were it not for her bespotted suit of armor—as he so aptly named it—she would have melted into a puddle of panic. However, that was a worry for another time. Her first order of business was to alert Gabriel's assistant that there was a certain corporate heir running loose in the building unattended.

Said dinner actually did take place, albeit two weeks later once Marinette finally had a chance to catch up on the majority of her sleep. She didn't think he'd actually go through with it. For that matter, she didn't know how he was able to squeeze it into his planned-to-the-second daily schedule without frying Nathalie's circuits, but he just gave her a conspiratorial wink and said that he had his ways.

It was supposed to be a casual affair, she had to remind herself as she swiped a makeup brush over her cheeks. And again as she hooked an earring into her left ear while pulling a soft, flat shoe over her right heel. It was casual. It was just dinner.

But she was taking her jacket with her just in case.

END.

* * *

**I started this back in January and basically poked at it for a while. I think if I poke at it anymore, it's going to fall apart so I'm stopping here. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I just know that I need more time to finish building my giant flower garden in Animal Crossing.**

**It was a fun idea that I wanted to play with so, in that respect, I regret nothing.**


End file.
